One of the trickiest workplace conundrums -- when to cuss and when not to:
Still, profanity is a barometer of corporate culture because cussing up a blue streak may be taboo to some companies and expected in others. It's used as everything from a social bonding tool to a badge of status, from a weapon to a substitute for it. Not least, it's a stress reliever when a paper tray doesn't know it's already full, a voicemail system doesn't recognize a password, or when an automated restroom faucet splashes your pants, suggesting incontinence that is good for no one's career.
"Uttering a profanity is almost like enjoying a breath of fresh air," concedes P.M. Forni, author of "Choosing Civility" and co-founder of the Johns Hopkins Civility Project. While he recognizes its usefulness, he hates it for the most part. "As a form of respect for the people around you whose sensitivities you cannot individually gauge, you should abstain from uttering profanities."
In some workplaces, says Timothy Jay, a professor of psychology and author on cursing, "if you're the one who doesn't swear, you're the weirdo." He says "profane language can be very effective in gaining credibility," and has been a privilege of rank. Traditionally, "it works down the hierarchy, not up," he says.
If you slip into profanity occasionally (I confess to that weakness), you have to decide when and with whom while you're at work. Except for people you know and are comfortable with, the best bet is to keep a civil tongue and let others take the lead -- curse only when you are cursed to, in other words. I don't need to be a potty mouth all the time, but I tend to feel more able to be myself around someone who doesn't mind an occasional expletive. (This is probably a corollary to another prejudice of mine: I never entirely trust anyone who has never been addicted to anything.)
But, as the article points out, profanity will always offend someone; never being profane will not offend anyone. One of the things that amazes me these days is how parents and their children feel perfectly comfortable cursing with each other. When I was growing up (ALERT: going into old fogey mode), kids cussed and parents cussed, and kids knew parents cussed and parents knew kids cussed. They just lived in a polite world in which each group pretended not to notice the other's cussing. I remember the first time I ever heard my father utter a profanity. I was about 13 or 14 and spending the day with him at Mays Sand & Stone, the gravel pit where he worked and did maintenance work by himself every other Sunday. He hit his thumb with a hammer and shouted, understandably, "S---!" I was so shocked that I couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks. Same for him, I bet.
